


The Worst Kind of Freshman

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, M/M, Phanfiction, Sexual Humor, Stereotypes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell is a freshman. The worst kind of freshman, - one from a different city. Phil Lester is the "bad-boy." He's covered in tattoos, piercings, and God knows how many STDs he has. Needless to say, he's got one hell of a reputation. Dan's only goal for this new year? Avoid Phil Lester, whatever the cost may be.</p><p>This is a work of fiction, meaning I made this up. I am most likely not going to be 100% accurate in what I guess you would call YouTuber lore? In any case, these events and/or locations are not accurate.</p><p>Story is from Dan's point of view unless otherwise stated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long-Ass Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based around a story one of my friends began but never finished. If you want to read the prologue (all she wrote), I will link it here: http://www.wattpad.com/42066754-how-about-no-prolouge
> 
> I wanted this story to have an ending, which hopefully it will- here, on the Archive.

Dan Howell is a freshman. The worst kind of freshman, - one from a different city. Phil Lester is the "bad-boy." He's covered in tattoos, piercings, and God knows how many STDs he has. Needless to say, he's got one hell of a reputation. Dan's only goal for this new year? Avoid Phil Lester, whatever the cost may be.

-

The first day of high school. I had honestly dreaded this day since they had started bringing in high-schoolers to talk about their experiences. 

One thing that made it worse? A sudden move from London to Manchester at the end of the school year. 

A new job for my parents meant a new school for me. As cliche as it may be, that also meant zero friends.

Of course, I am not what you would call a social butterfly. My idea of a party is when my grandparents come over for Christmas dinner and my parents drink a glass of wine.

But in reality, high school can't be all that bad, even in a completely new town. This could be the time in my life when I start making friendships that will last a lifetime. Hell, I may even get a girlfriend.

These happy thoughts suddenly sauntered away as the bus pulled up to the curb. I climbed in, looking around for an empty seat, my eyes finding the back of the bus.

There, a boy _covered_ in tattoos and piercings locked eye contact with me. His eyes were blue. The blue you can't forget. And his hair was jet black. I couldn't tell if it was natural or dyed.

Suddenly, I was pulled down into the seat next to me.

"Are you a dumbass? Or are you just new here?"

"Um, sorry, what?" I asked, glaring at the boy who pulled me down.

"You must be new," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Chris. Chris Kendall."

I shook his hand. "Dan. Dan Howell."

"Well, nice to meet you Dan," he replied, leaning back into the vinyl covering of the seat. "So, what are you? Freshman, exchange student, what?"

"Um, both?" I answered. "Parents got new jobs here, so I had to go too, pretty obviously. Freshman from London."

"Well, since you're new, I'll give you the rundown of who you want to avoid." He pulled out a notebook and pencil, before sketching a Venn diagram. One circle had the name Phil Lester written in it, and the other simply had "everyone else." "Phil Lester is the guy in the back of the bus. He's really just... a dick, I guess." His voice was almost a whisper.

I shot a quick, "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' Just stick with me for a while. I'll show you the ropes, and then you can abandon my sorry ass," he smirked.

I let a small laugh escape my lips. "Yeah, I have a feeling you won't be getting rid of me that easily," I joked.

The bus pulled into a large parking lot. Chris stuffed his notebook back into his bag. "Looks like we're here."

-

As soon as we were inside, Chris motioned for me to follow him through the hallways of the school, pointing out where my classes were, showing which bathrooms to use and which ones not to use.

Eventually, we made a full circle, all the way back to the front doors, where I met PJ.

PJ and Chris were quite obviously good friends. Chris even introduced PJ as "KickThePj" before correcting himself. PJ called Chris "Crabstickz," which was pretty odd. They explained that these were their internet personas - their usernames.

"I'm sure you have one," PJ insisted. "So... shoot. What do you want us to call you for the rest of your life?"

"Um, my twitter is Danisnotonfire, so that's something," I replied (in the most awkward way ever).

"Well, 'Danisnotonfire,'" PJ began. "Looks as though you have a long-ass name."

We all laughed and said our goodbyes before we each headed to our seperate classes.


	2. My Chemical Romance

As I reached my final class period of the day, the teacher gave us our seating assignments.

Needless to say, I recognized the boy next to me.

It was Phil Lester. The one boy I was told to avoid. And now I'm stuck next to him in World History for a semester.

We didn't do much in class, considering it was the first day, so I pulled out my phone, put my earbuds in, and turned up Blood by My Chemical Romance, hoping to block out the rest of the world, just for the last few minutes of the day.

I heard a faint 'hey' through the piano chords. Glancing around, I realized it was Phil.

I pulled out one of my earbuds, giving him a questioning look.

"You like My Chemical Romance?" he asked. "Pretty impressive music taste for, what, a freshman?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. I'm kind of new here."

"I can tell," he inquired, laughing slightly. He pushed his fringe out of his face. "So - where are you from?"

"London," I replied quickly.

"Fuck," he sputtered, holding his hands up defensively. "I don't bite. I promise."

I pulled the other earbud out, wrapping them up and pushing them into my pocket. "Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I'm not a huge extrovert."

"You seemed pretty social with Chris and PJ."

Had this bastard been watching me?

"How would you know?" I asked, curious.

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "When 'fresh meat,' as my friends called you, makes direct eye contact with someone as horrible-looking as me, you tend to notice. I wanted to see how you got along on your first day."

"Why do you say 'horrible-looking?'" I questioned.

"Have you seen me?" he began. "I'm covered in tattoos. This stuff will never go away. And these piercings?" He pointed to his septum, lip, as well as a few other various places.

"They don't make a person horrible-looking," I said.

"Yeah, well you don't know the half of it." He looked at the floor for a few seconds. "So, what's your name?"

"Dan Howell."

"Well, Dan Howell, my name is Phil Lester, and it's an honor to make your acquaintance."

-

"Whoa, you sit next to him?"

"So much for avoiding him," Chris muttered under his breath.

"What did he say?" PJ asked.

"You guys are acting like eleven year old girls," I said. "All we talked about was MCR and his tattoos and stuff."

"What about his tattoos?" PJ continued.

"He just said they looked horrible, and I said they didn't. And then he introduced himself properly. He was almost gentleman-like."

"What are you, some sort of fag-boy?" Chris yakked.

"Shut the fuck up, Chris."

"PJ, man, it's okay," I said, determined to avoid a fight after my first day of knowing these guys.

He huffed and got up, slamming Chris' bedroom door.

Chris followed. Before he fully left the room, he turned to me and simply said, "Sorry, I really didn't mean it in a bad way. Y'know, if you're... gay."

I heard a faint argument from outside the door.

"You can't just say that to people!"

That was PJ.

"Look, I don't think he's offended by it. I didn't mean it in a bad way anyways."

That was Chris.

Did they think I was gay?


	3. Birthday Parties Don't Count

The next Friday, Phil asked me if I had ever been to a party.

"What do you mean?" I retaliated.

"I mean a _party_. Like an actual party." He paused. "And no, birthday parties don't count."

I replied, "No," without hesitation.

"Would you want to go to one?"

I just kind of glared off into space for a while. I didn't really know how to respond.

He continued. "I mean, of course, I would be there. I don't know if that's comforting or worrying, so." He stopped to lick his lips. "You really don't have to go if you don't want to, it was just kind of a suggestion. I thought it'd be cool to get to know you a little better, considering we're kind of partners in class and everything. I totally understand if you're bus-"

"I'll go."

He smiled. "Really? It's tonight, by the way. I can come pick you up. I assume you can't legally drive yet."

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great." I proceeded to give him my number, along with my address.

Now, the thing was explaining why I was going out on a Friday night.

-

"So, my... friend asked me to go to a party tonight, so that's where I'm going."

"A party?" My mum looked surprised. "That's fantastic, Dan! I'm glad to see you making friends. Just be safe, okay?"

That was way easier than it looks in the movies.

Soon enough, I heard a car outside. Rushing to the front door, I stuffed my wallet and phone into my pocket. Phil drove a '92 Honda Accord. Not surprisingly, it was extremely banged up. And soon enough, I understood why.

Phil was a horrible driver. Beyond horrible, nearly. I was surprised he had his driver's license. He could have always made a fake one, to be fair. Every second spent in his car was one second closer to death.

We finally reached the house. Huge, for the record. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I had to stop myself from instinctively grabbing onto the nearest person - the nearest person here being Phil. This whole "party" thing was pretty intimidating to me. For some odd reason, I couldn't seem to bring myself to leave Phil's side, whether it be the fact that I feared losing my ride home, or just the fact that I could potentially be kicked out if I didn't have someone vouching for me.

Another patron at the party persuaded me to take a few drinks. And when I say a few, I mean a lot. A lot for me, at least. I think I drank five cans of beer. Phil didn't touch any alcohol the entire time.

I was definitely drunk. It wasn't hard to tell. I texted my mum, best I could, telling her I would most likely be spending the night at Phil's (or I may just sleep here, on the floor, but I didn't mention that).

"Can I stay at your place tonight?" I asked Phil. "My mum would be so pissed if I came home drunk."

He smiled, laughing as I slurred my words. "Of course."

-

When Phil led me into his house, his mother greeted us, surprisingly. It was almost 2:30AM, so I didn't expect his mum to be up.

"Phillip! I told you I will not have you bringing filthy drunks into my house!"

"He isn't a filthy drunk, mum," Phil argued. "He's a friend from school." He guided me up the stairs to his room. He muttered under his breath, "What a fucking bitch."

"You shouldn't talk about your mum that way," I said. "She seems like a nice lady. She waited up all this time for you."

"She called you a filthy drunk," he reasoned.

"That's what I am, r'now 't least."

"Shut up, and get some sleep," he said, laughing.

"G'night, Phil."

"Goodnight, Dan."


	4. Trainwreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a few lines of cheesy dialogue ahead. I am extremely sorry.
> 
> Also, apologies for taking so long on this chapter, as well as the shortness of each of them! I'm currently having a bit of.. erh, shall we say, computer issues. Hopefully I'll be posting more often. Thank you!

The next morning, I woke up with a headache. I was nauseous, and I was still incredibly drained of energy. Phil was on the floor next to his bed (where I was sleeping), still out cold. I got up, trying my hardest to be quiet as I snuck past him, headed downstairs. When I reached the kitchen, his mum looked at me.

"Do you need a Tylenol? Advil?" she asked, holding a cup of tea. "I'll grab one for you."

"Uh, yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Dan."

She handed me two blue pills and a bottle of water. "Nice to meet you, Dan. I don't see a lot like you. You don't seem like the type of person who would make acquaintance with my son."

"What do you mean?" I ask, quickly swallowing the two pills.

"Well, most of the people Phil brings home are.. a bit off-putting, if you understand what I mean." She paused, coughed, then resumed. "Sure, you may have been drunk last night, but you didn't disturb us. You seem... different than the others." She looked down into her mug. I wasn't completely sure if that was a compliment, so I simply looked down, nodded, and awkwardly shuffled back upstairs to Phil's room.

When I finally sat down on the twin-sized bed, I heard Phil stirring. He turned to face me, and smiled as he opened his eyes. "Good morning." He stretched, his arms falling to his sides. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not very long," I replied. "Your mum gave me a pain pill. My head is killing me- I feel horrible."

"That's what being drunk will do to you," Phil muttered, yawning in the middle of the sentence. After a few seconds, it seemed he was fully awake. "So, are you hungry? You want to go get breakfast somewhere?"

I thought about it. "Yeah," I lied. After realizing that Phil hadn't eaten or drank anything in over twelve hours, I figured it was only fair that he got something to eat. "I'll pay."

"Whoa, whoa." He stood up, pulling a pair of black jeans up his legs awkwardly, laughing. "Why would I let you pay? You're a guest- and a freshman. Do you even have a job?" 

"Well, no." I pulled a pair of Vans onto my feet as I stood up. "But, you took me to a party where you could have easily left me to be mauled by seniors. And you let me sleep at your house, so I think I owe you."

"Fair point," he said under his breath. "Go Dutch?" I glared at him for a moment. "Y'know. Each of us pays for our own."

"That works," I said, opening the door to his room.

-

As we sat down in the small cafe, I watched as Phil anxiously looked around. After seemingly scanning the small, one-room restaurant we were sitting in, he deemed it as "clean", and relaxed in his seat. "Are you okay?" I tilted my head slightly. I began to open my mouth again, but figured it was a lost cause. I looked down into the menu.

"I'm fine," Phil said, his voice cold. His blue eyes glared into mine, as I shifted slightly in my seat.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking away.

I subconsciously pulled the menu up to cover my face. Phil seemed... touchy. I didn't want to seem too "in-his-business".

He pulled the menu away from my face. "Look," he began, "I think you're a great person." He stared at me. "But, as cliche as it may seem, my friends think you're just some fag freshman."

I almost cringed at the use of the word fag leaving Phil's mouth; as much as he cursed, 'fag' didn't strike me as a word he would use.

He continued. "I don't want you to think I don't want to be your... friend." I noted that he hesitated on 'friend'. "You're the first person who hasn't made the impression of being afraid of me. I like it. I could really get used to it. I hate being someone to scare everyone else. My life's a trainwreck though, isn't it?"

I sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry."

-

Phil dropped me off at my house a few hours later, waving goodbye as I stepped inside.

"How was the party?" my mother asked as soon as the door closed.

I looked at her for a moment. I contemplated coming clean about drinking and all the people doing whatever drugs they could get their hands on before simply saying, "It was okay. Nothing special. We had breakfast in the city earlier." God, if only she knew.


End file.
